If you give OHmommy rain boots....

It rained all day today and I could not have been more excited to wear my new Hunter rain boots.

However, I threw them over my jeans and realized that my outfit would not work. My jeans were simply way too bulky and boot cut. I needed skinny jeans. Skinny jeans became popular when I was pregnant with Fifi and I have had my eyes on them ever since.

I didn't want to invest in an expensive pair because skinny jeans are essentially jean leggings and my post pregnancy body is just not ready to go there yet. Yes... 15 months is considered post pregnancy in my world.

I dropped off the kiddos at preschool and ran to the store with Fifi. Marshalls... brand names for less "Shop On." Perfect for me. I was ready to get my shopping on for the perfect pair of jeans for my boots.

As we dodged the rain in my ballet flats, I noticed a huge sign in the window that read "SHOE MEGASHOP." We walked through the doors and I knew that I was in big trouble. They totally re-vamped their shoe department. They placed all 5,000 square feet of DESIGNER SHOES directly in front of the store by the entrance.

I was in trouble.

I could end the story right now and tell you that I did not even make it to the jean department and walked out with new sassy shoes instead.

That is precisely what happened.

I spent over an hour drooling over stilettos, wedges, and cute sandals. Fifi lead a path of destruction and opened every box in sight. In the newly organized shoe section, each shoe was neatly displayed on top and the available sizes were boxed underneath. It made shopping for shoes so much easier and Fifi had a blast admiring pumps and placing them in and out of their respectful boxes.

We were in shoe heaven!

"This?"

"This?" She pulled out shoe after shoe and slipped them onto her chubby feet.

I have been looking out for the perfect summer sandal for days at the park, pool, and playground. I can not do flip flops anymore for I believe my legs look too manly, heavy, and muscular. I wanted something simple and with a little bit of a heel to slim down my legs.

I found what I wanted in shoe heaven for just under 30 dollars.

Shhhh... whisper. I am afraid my Hunters will be jealous. See the newest addition to my shoe family.



If you give OHmommy rain boots, she will need jeans to match. When OHmommy shops for jeans, she gets distracted by shoes. When OHmommy buys the shoes, she finds a cute top to match. When she puts together the cutest summer outfit, it rains. And when it rains OHmommy will put on her rain boots and realize she needs skinny jeans to match.

Mr. OHmommy is hoping is doesn't rain for a while.

I am just not ready for this...

Why is this picture of a boy's bicycle worth photographing?
To the average eye, it is just that, a boy's bicycle.

To me, it is so much more. It is the details of the kickstand and lack of training wheels. I am just not ready to have a child that does not require training wheels. Furthermore, I am just not old enough to have a child with a kickstand. How many other 30 year olds have a child with a bicycle sans training wheels?

I am just not ready for this.

I admit. I have babied my oldest.

When he was 15 months old and still not walking, I held him and encouraged him to stay near. When he started walking, the very next day, he took his first 100 steps and was off forever. When he was 18 months old and still not talking, I spoke for him and filled his life with stories. When he started talking, the very next day, it was in full sentences and full of reason. When he was 2 years old and still afraid of water, I gently washed his hair at night and glared down evil splashing children at the pool during the day. When he started swimming, the very next year, it was underwater and across the pool racing his sister.

I have typically waited for him to give me signs of readiness... cause really, in all honesty, I could never be ready for the next developmental milestone. I have always tried to be in tune with him because I have never been tuned. I never read the Mommy Manual that they sent me home with from the hospital.

So, when my first born love, approached me this week asking to take his training wheels off. I wept. I knew that once they were off he would be too. And really, in all honesty, I am not ready for this next stage.





Attached is a video for my family & friends to prove his latest accomplishment. As we were uploading, Jay asked me, "You think everyone will say... Good job Jay?" Yes, I do, Jay. I am so proud of my big boy. A boring video to the average eye, but to me... a whole new world of letting go. Sniff. Sniff.

Please no Juno jokes about my husband's attire. The husband went shopping alone for "running shorts." You can laugh WITH me, m'kay?

I thought I was HOT...

My kids are growing like weeds. How do I know? They are still hungry after a well balanced meal.

Yesterday, the husband, prepared one of his scrumptious chicken stir-frys. He used no recipe for his delicacy and successfully disguised a medley of nearly a dozen exotic vegetables. We ate well.

Jay asked for seconds, Lola cleared her own bowl, and Fifi did not even share with Murphy our daschund. When Jay approached me for his third bowl I sarcastically replied, "No, way Jose! I do not want you to grow anymore. I want you to stay this age forever."

To which he very honestly replied, "The more I eat, the more I will grow. I want to grow tall enough so I can reach up and kiss you on my own."

To which my heart melted. I wanted to bottle that up and save it forever only to release it when he is about 16 and saying whatever horrible things he will say to me then.

About two hours after our scrumptious stir-fry, the kids were hungry again. However, it was too close to bed time and Fifi was dying to sleep. "No, guys. Bedtime is in 1/2 an hour." However, the older two were BEGGING for food, actually begging for McDonald's. "What the heck.... let's go." I threw on a pair of jeans and instructed the husband to put Fifi to bed.

They were so excited!

We arrived at out neighborhood's golden arches for our impromptu evening date. "One chicken nugget happy meal, honey mustard, french fries, chocolate milk, and a girl toy. One cheeseburger happy meal hold the onions, apple slices, chocolate milk, and a boy toy. One small Diet Coke, please."

I smiled at the kids and paid for my order. I turned to my left and noticed a handsome business man smiling at us. I smiled back. I suddenly remembered that I was without my wedding ring. I am often without it, especially in a hurry. He was without his too, but not in a hurry. He smiled at us again and gave me the complete stare down. I turned around and blushed in disbelief.

Oh. My. Gosh. He is totally checking me out.

We waited for our order and Lola searched the restaurant for a table. He started to order. "The number 4 super sized, please." He looked over at me again. He smiled.

Oh. My. Gosh. I am not imagining this. He is totally checking me out. I still have "it."

I smiled. I grabbed our tray, met Lola, and started to divide the food. As the kiddos ate their food I could not wait to get home to tell my husband... "Dude. I am still hot! Someone at McDonald's was TOTALLY checking me out."

As we were leaving McDonald's the handsome business man gave me one last smile.

We jammed on the way home. The kiddos walked through the door with their McDonald's toys and greeted the husband. Just as I was about to rub my awesome still-have-it hotness in my husband's face he smirked and asked me, "Ummm, are you afraid of heights?"


Just for the record, my thighs did not always meet at that point. For a long time, before kids, they did not rub together at all when I walked. Yes. I used to be hot.

A Private Letter to my Mama.

Kochana Mamusia,

Today is Mother's Day and you are 5,000 miles away from me, taking care of your aging mother and father in rural Poland.

This alone is a true testament to the kind of person you truly are.

I can't verbally wish you a Happy Mother's Day. I can't physically hug you to tell you how much I love you.

But rest assured I know and appreciate what you have done for me.

I know that it must have been incredibly painful for you to clean houses during that first summer in America, while Kash and I were in daycare. I can't even imagine the feelings you felt that summer as you observed happy American children enjoying their mothers while you made their beds and scrubbed their bathrooms.

I know that you must have thought that I was an un-grateful American teenager when you lovingly packed smelly goose liver pate sandwiches for my high school lunch and realized that I threw them out. Oh. What I would do now for some smelly goose liver pate, smothered on top of rye bread.

I can't even imagine the strength it took to leave behind a familiar language, comfortable surroundings, and a loving family in your young twenties to move across an ocean for us. I. Just. Can't. Even. Imagine. A simple trip to the mall with three children makes me break out in sweat.

I can't even imagine what you must have thought when the vice-Principal of my high school called to let you know that I was "unaccounted for" and presumed "ditching school." You see... I was trying my best to fit into the American culture and celebrate "senior ditch day." I now understand how disappointed you must have felt not understanding how students could disrespect education. I am so sorry. For the reference, the Jerry Springer show did not delight.

I love how your reminded me, my entire life, that I was different from everyone else. Not in an elitist way, but in a loving way that reinforced why we came to this country. I might have given you a snotty look as a teenager when you said "We are the BlahblahSKI family and we are not average." It only took me 30 years to understand the true meaning behind your words. We are not your average family.

I love.

I love you. Even though, as a typical Polish family we might not hug enough and kiss in public and pronounce our undefeated love to one another. I just want you to know that I am becoming a little more American with each day. I am longing to hug and kiss you with obnoxious emotions. "COME HERE AND GIVE ME A HUG!!!!!" Sacrastically prounced with a thick Chicago accent.

I love you now, more than ever, as I am someone's "kochana mamusia." I can now, only begin to imagine, the feelings that you have wrestled with for 31 years.

Happy Mother's Day, Mamusia. Without you, I am not myself.

Kochama Ciebie,
OHmommy

Motherhood Has No Script

Motherhood is full of highs and lows. There are days when we experience both.

Take for example our trip to the zoo this week. We frequent the zoo often, if just for a brisk walk through the park. The older two have a virtual map of the zoo downloaded in their heads and by age 18 months were able to distinguish between a red eyed tree frog and a bull frog. They could point to a sloth in a lineup of apes and recite a list of facts.

However, my poor and neglected third child caused me to worry about her speech development on this zoo trip. She seemed so confused. Could she be speech delayed? Should I seek professional help?

To her, the elephant was a "Woof! Woof!"

The crane and stork were both "Quack! Quacks!"

The sloth, marmoset, and lemurs were all "Meow! Meows!"

The older two got a kick out of her confusion and laughed the entire time. I shook my head and worried about my baby, on our ride home. At 18 months old the others were reciting "Old MacDonald" in their sleep. I know better than to compare them; nevertheless, worrying is second nature to me and I do it every chance I can get.

Back at home I organized some puzzles for the older two and took my 15 month old Fifi upstairs for some well needed quality time. I sang to her as I un-dressed her. I kissed and lingered in her neck while I hummed another song. We giggled as I chased her around, barking like a dog. I read a handful of books while she sat in my lap. I took her downstairs, still undressed, to start dinner. NOTE: The third child is without clothes a lot. Especially around dinner time. Green is the new black.... we save on running the washing machine.

Fifi walked over to the mud room where Jay and Lola's backpacks are neatly hung. Every morning she watches them get ready for school, she watches them being dropped off at school, she watches our loving goodbyes. She. Pays. Attention. And I grabbed the video camera to capture her.

She is fine. Totally 100% perfect in every way. She might get her animals confused but her observations of us are not confused.

Soooooo.... motherhood. Ah, motherhood! A typical day of an obsessed mother can start on a low note and can end on a high. Some days are filled with highs and other days full of lows.

The best part is that: there is no script and we create the story. It is mostly in our hands. In remote villages of Islamic Africa, my sister explained, mothers frequently exclaim "It is in God's hands!" regarding everything from the village's rainfall to the health of their children.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!! Hope you experience many highs while writing your own mother's day script. It is in your hands.